


but tonight we'll stay awhile

by SugarFey



Series: The Sky Is Here For Both Of Us [2]
Category: The Expanse (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Pre-OT3, background Holden/Naomi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-07-23 20:03:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16166000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SugarFey/pseuds/SugarFey
Summary: “I can’t be part of the OPA,” Naomi insists, holding her gaze. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t be with you. If you’d have me.”Months after the Behemoth, Drummer and Naomi meet again.





	but tonight we'll stay awhile

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [time goes quicker between the two of us](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15912378) by [SugarFey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SugarFey/pseuds/SugarFey). 



> It seems like I've diving into OT3 territory at long last... or at least pre-OT3.
> 
> This fic is a sequel to 'time goes quicker between the two of us,' but you don't have to have read that fic to understand this one. Many thanks to Hufflepuffsneak for the beta and L for the feedback.

The _Rocinante_ arrives for resupply a few months after Drummer returns to Tycho. She notes the arrival on the logs, barks out orders to the dock crews and tries hard not to think about it. She’s nearly at the end of her shift when her hand terminal lights up with a message from Naomi. 

 _I know beers are out, but can I buy you coffee?_

Drummer waits to reply until her shift is over. Then, _my quarters. The mess coffee is shit._  

She does not mention that she hasn’t been down to the recreation decks since she left the _Behemoth_ , that after several months of physical therapy she still walks with a limp and she’s tired of the stares. 

She makes her way down to her quarters and it’s not long before the security system signals someone requesting permission to enter. Drummer releases the lock from her hand terminal, unwilling to move now that she’s settled. 

Naomi moves into the room with a shy smile and Drummer can’t help smiling back, because there is a tiny, stupid part of her heart that lights up whenever she sees Naomi smile. 

“How are you feeling?” Naomi says, glancing around. Observant as she is, Naomi will take it all in; Drummer sitting on the edge of her bunk, the bottles of pills in place of alcohol, the mech supports collapsed against the wall for the days when pain is on the strong side. 

“PT’s working,” Drummer replies. She nods towards the pills. “Doc’s weaning me off those.” 

Naomi gives an approving nod as she lowers herself into the chair by the desk. “We might have beers then soon enough. Might even go dancing.” 

Naomi Nagata, ever the optimist. 

“Be a long time before I hit the clubs,” Drummer says, but the reality tastes bitter on her tongue. 

Naomi shrugs off Drummer’s cynicism. “We don’t have to go to the clubs. Throw on some music, and we could dance right here.” 

Drummer eyes her warily. “You’ve got to be joking.” 

Naomi laughs. “I’ll get you dancing, you’ll see.” 

“I’ll get you coffee first.” 

Drummer braces her arm against the wall while she works up the willpower to move. Gritting her teeth, she tries to heave herself up with the appearance of ease. She manages to stand with only a twinge in her back. Now it’s just a matter of putting one foot in front of the other. 

She deliberately doesn’t look at Naomi as she shuffles her left foot forward. Now the right. Then the left. The coffee packets are only steps away. Right. Left. Right. 

Her heel sets down awkwardly, and she knows what’s about to happen a split second before it does. Pain explodes down her spine, through her hips and into her buckling knees. 

 _“Fuck!”_  

The room swims and she gropes blindly for the wall. Instead, a hand grabs her elbow, and another arm wraps around her waist, keeping her steady. 

Naomi. Naomi, holding Drummer’s waist, standing so close their faces graze. 

“Guess I’ll be getting that coffee then,” Naomi murmurs, the softness in her voice so close to pity, and Drummer can’t stand it. 

“It’s nothing,” she hisses, trying to push Naomi’s hands away, but the movement makes her sway dangerously. 

Naomi keeps a firm grip on Drummer’s arms, her frown deepening. Already, Drummer has made Naomi angry, and that thought mollifies her enough to let Naomi guide her back to the bunk.   

“It’s not that bad,” Drummer insists in an attempt at bravado that falls woefully flat. 

Naomi rolls her eyes, still supporting Drummer’s wrist and elbow as she helps her sit. “Like hell it is. I don’t take that level of bullshit from anyone, especially the people I love.” 

The word, sudden, unexpected, causes numbness to grasp Drummer’s throat, her chest, her legs. Her temper flares, a cover for the ache, and she flinches away from Naomi’s touch. “Don’t. Not if you don’t mean what you say.” 

Naomi’s face falls. “Camina…” 

 _“Don’t.”_

Naomi’s eyes widen with hurt; which triggers an uncharacteristic blush of shame to rise on Drummer’s cheeks. The silence is tense between them, broken only by the hum of the air recyclers.

Naomi leans back, the low ceiling of the bunk casting shadows across her face. “You’re my friend,” she sighs, “of course I love you.” 

The words slip out before Drummer can think better of it. “But not enough, _ke?”_  

Naomi hesitates. “I… I don’t know.” 

“Because of Holden,” Drummer replies, because it’s the easiest answer, as if Naomi’s last words on the _Behemoth_ haven’t been echoing in her mind for months. 

“ _If things were different, we might—“_

When Drummer replays the memory, the image of Naomi finishes the sentence differently each time. 

 _“We might, if I wasn’t in love with an Earther.”_

_“We might, if you weren’t a part of the OPA.”_

_“We might, if you weren’t so good at killing things.”_  

“This has nothing to do with him,” Naomi forces out, her jaw hardening. 

“Then why?” 

Naomi opens her mouth, closes it again as though changing her mind, then looks down at her hands folded in her lap. “I loved someone before. He took everything from me, took my son from me, because he believed in causes more than he valued people.” Her voice cracks. “I can’t fight for the Belt if it gets innocent people killed. That’s why I left, Camina.” 

Drummer has suspected as much, even has thoughts as to who. Her position gives her a certain insight into the various OPA factions. Yet hearing the confirmation in Naomi’s voice, seeing the lines of grief in Naomi’s features, releases a confusion of feeling in her chest. Anger; on Naomi’s behalf, coupled with a strange sense of respect or pride, that after everything Naomi has been through, she still has the ability to care so deeply for human life. 

If Drummer ever had that, she lost it on Ceres a long time ago. She isn’t an idealist, never has been. Oh, she can give a stirring speech when needed, rally the troops. She steals the best lines from Fred or the never ending parade of hungry-eyed Belter kids spouting philosophy in the Tycho bars. These days Drummer does the shit that needs to be done so Fred can keep talking about ideas and plans. And Dawes, well, he had liked her angry. 

“You have a good heart, Naomi,” Drummer says. “Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.” 

It’s the truth. Naomi is fundamentally, essentially, desperately good, and Drummer has long given up on being a good person herself, but damn it, Naomi makes her want to try. 

“I was nineteen when I met Dawes,” she says, looking down at the tough fabric stretched over her knees. “Young, stupid. Wanted somewhere to direct all the hate I felt for the world. Dawes gave me purpose, a people to belong to. Gave me just enough to make me feel like I owed him, then he’d come round looking for—“ 

She breaks off, the words stuck in her throat. 

Naomi reaches out as though to touch Drummer’s shoulder, then hesitates and lowers her hand onto the mattress instead. “Camina, I had no idea.” 

Drummer balls her fingers into a fist, presses into her thigh. She focuses on the pain and tries to breathe. “No matter. It was a long time ago.” 

“I’ll get that coffee,” Naomi says. There is no trace of pity in her voice. Drummer has never loved her more. 

Naomi keeps her back turned as she fills the jug at the wash stand and spoons the coffee into two uncovered mugs. The coffee is cheap, instant stuff, but it gets the job done. Drummer inhales the bitter scent as Naomi pours the boiling water, letting it fill her lungs. 

Naomi lingers over the coffee for a while. She can read Drummer well. 

Drummer keeps her eyes on the taut line of Naomi’s shoulders. “Did Holden tell you what I said to him,” she says, “when I took the grenades?” 

Naomi shifts around slowly, two mugs of steaming coffee in her hands. She closes the short distance to the bunk, handing one of the mugs to Drummer as she sits. She takes a sip before speaking, her face deliberately neutral. 

“He said you were sorry about firing on the _Roci._ He said you wanted me to know that.” 

Drummer lets the warmth of the coffee mug soak through her skin as she watches Naomi’s face. “I did what I had to. But I hurt you. And I’m sorry.” 

Something flickers across Naomi’s face, but it’s gone before Drummer is able to place it. “Thank you,” she murmurs, eyes soft. 

Naomi shifts closer until their knees just touch, and she does touch Drummer’s shoulder this time. 

Drummer leans away. “I told you before,” she snaps, the sharpness a surprise even to her. “Things are the way they are.” 

The bitter, angry part of her is screaming to tell Naomi to get out, to leave Drummer here with the aggressive coolness of her empty bed, the acrid taste in her mouth and the ache in her spine and heart. She drinks her coffee instead and lets the burning liquid drown the feeling. At least it’s not gin for once. 

Naomi does not touch Drummer again, but she doesn’t move away. “They don’t have to be this way.” 

Drummer’s shrug is so transparent it makes her cringe inwardly as she does it. “You made your case for why not.” 

Naomi shakes her head, leaning forward as though willing Drummer to look at her. When Drummer keeps her eyes firmly fixed on the floor, Naomi swears under her breath. She stands, and for a horrible moment Drummer thinks Naomi will actually leave, but then Naomi crouches down in front of Drummer and reaches up to cup Drummer’s cheek in her hand. 

Drummer stares down into Naomi’s dark eyes, frozen. Naomi’s face is soft, imploring, and Drummer can’t help leaning into her hand. 

“I can’t be part of the OPA,” Naomi insists, holding her gaze. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t be with you. If you’d have me.” 

At first, Drummer doesn’t even process Naomi’s words. They seem to make no sense at all. She replays them over in her mind again, and still feels nothing but dumb disbelief. All she can manage to choke out in response is “what does Holden have to say about that?” 

Naomi draws in a deep breath. Her fingers tremble ever so slightly against Drummer’s cheek. “He grew up with eight parents. He told me to talk to you. About us.” 

She brings up her other hand to grip Drummer’s, and does not let go even when Drummer jumps at the shock of Naomi’s skin against hers. 

“I want to be with you both, Camina,” Naomi whispers. “We could try.” 

All of Drummer’s instincts are still shouting that this cannot be real, that Naomi could not possibly be offering what she says she is. 

Her job doesn’t really allow for relationships. Drummer has a firm policy against sleeping with anyone who works for her, and that restricts long term entanglements. She gets plenty of sex; there are enough women passing through the Tycho bars looking for someone with whom to share their shore leave, and she’ll even pick up the occasional man if she feels so inclined. She never makes an effort to see them again, and that suits her fine. She spent almost two decades building up the walls which Naomi managed to tear down. 

On one day or another, she had known there was no one else she trusted as completely, no one else she wanted by her side at the command deck, no one else she would lay down her life for, without a second thought. 

Months ago on the _Behemoth_ , Klaes Ashford had asked her if she was willing to sacrifice her life for a greater good. She had thought of Naomi and her answer was as firm as her conviction. 

 _I still am._  

“I have my work here,” she says, watching Naomi carefully. 

“I expect we’ll come through often.” Naomi says it lightly, but Drummer can hear the tremor in her voice. “Repairs. Supplies. We might be parked for weeks at a time. Can we at least talk about it?” 

Drummer still feels numb, has been feeling that way, if she’s being honest, since she returned from the _Behemoth_ and had to learn how to walk while the universe changed around her, and is changing still.

But Naomi is here, and maybe, just maybe, she can have something good. 

Drummer takes hold of Naomi’s hand where it still rests against her cheek, then turns her head and presses a soft kiss against Naomi’s palm. “I’m on shift in three hours. Stay with me. Then we talk to Holden.” 

Naomi’s smile is brilliant with relief. “Sounds good to me.” 

When their lips meet, it feels like coming up for air.

 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [hold me down, I'm so tired now](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16244135) by [SugarFey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SugarFey/pseuds/SugarFey)




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